


Rainbow Sprinkles

by misato



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Explicit Consent, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misato/pseuds/misato
Summary: “Do you want to go on a date with me?” James asked, his face suddenly feeling very flushed.“I would love to,” Damien said.





	Rainbow Sprinkles

**Author's Note:**

> a few things:
> 
> 1\. i'm a trans guy and i'm basing this on my own experiences. also if you're trans and reading this i love u!  
> 2\. consent is important! stop with the dubcon! i'm not here for that!  
> 3\. dadsona is trans in this fic. they're both trans men. yep.  
> 4\. enjoy!!!!!!!

It had been a few weeks since Amanda went off to college, and James was spending most of his days hanging around Damien’s section of the culdesac. He was charming and interesting and, okay, the only transgender adult he knew besides himself. It was nice to talk things through with him.

James himself had transitioned in his thirties, with the supportive of his late husband and his then-ten year old daughter. 

He had gotten top surgery a while ago, and had tattooed flowers over the scars. (“Do you have any idea what these represent?” Damien had murmured, running his fingers over the inked skin when James had offered to show him. James hadn’t any clue, but the flowers looked nice.) 

Meanwhile, Damien was only just about to start hormone therapy, and had no plans to get top surgery at all. It was expensive, and Damien felt highly uncomfortable getting any type of surgery in the first place. 

But despite their differences in transition goals, they still shared experiences. Both of their children were highly defensive when it came to their dads being misgendered in public, though it didn’t happen often. And both of them had a lot of trouble dating.

“Online dating sucks,” James said over tea one afternoon.

“I’ve never tried it,” Damien said, smiling into his teacup. “Not really my style, one might say.”

“My daughter made a Grindr account for me before she left for school,” James said. “Big mistake, dude. There are a lot of transphobes on Grindr.”

“Grindr doesn’t seem like the most elegant choice of dating apps anyway, ” Damien said. “Not that I would know.”

“I got a message from a guy fifteen miles away telling me he wants my boypussy.”

“Your what?” Damien said, his eyebrows skyrocketing and his teacup nearly upsetting itself as he set it down on the saucer.

“Exactly,” James said, rolling his eyes. “I would stick to dating transgender guys, but there aren’t a whole lot of trans dudes my age in this area.”

“There’s me,” Damien said, before taking a very long drink of tea, enjoying the flurry of expressions that crossed James’s face. 

James settled on a weak smile.

“There’s you,” he said. “Obviously. But it’s not as if you’re interested.”

“It’s not?” Damien said, his voice like velvet.

“Oh, I mean, well,” James sputtered.

Damien nodded, as if beckoning for him to continue.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” James asked, his face suddenly feeling very flushed.

“I would love to,” Damien said.

The next day they sat down for dinner at a sort of fancy restaurant -- one that Damien had picked; James didn’t trust himself to choose a place that would suit Damien’s culinary needs.

Damien neatly placed the cloth napkin on his lap, smiling across the table at his date.

The waitress came by, all smiles, and asked them what they’d like to drink. James ordered a water and Damien ordered lemonade.

“Did they drink lemonade in the Victorian era?” James teased.

“Actually, yes,” Damien said, laughing a little. “Due to a movement against the consumption of alcohol, lemonade became fairly popular.”

James stared at him in disbelief.

“Also, this place has really good lemonade.”

James laughed, probably too loudly, but Damien was looking very handsome in that vest, and one couldn’t possibly blame him for being more than a little nervous.

They ordered and then sat in near-silence while they waited for the food. James had chosen a vegetarian option because he thought it would be courteous (and because he wasn’t sure that Damien would kiss him later if his lips had touched meat). 

“James,” Damien said, after James had made a sculpture out of the straw wrappers rather than making small talk or even polite eye contact.

“Yes?” James said, his voice strained.

“This isn’t a test. Loosen up. Just talk to me like normal. No need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“And I’m not goth,” Damien said as the waitress arrived with their food.

They talked more casually as they ate; James’s nerves had mostly cleared up, but Damien ate his pasta so neatly that James felt like a mess eating his eggplant parmesan.

“You’ve got, um,” Damien stifled a laugh behind his napkin. “You’ve got sauce on your nose, love.”

James wasn’t sure what was most adorable -- the laugh, the fact that Damien had just called him “love,” or the way he was reaching across the table to swipe a thumb across James’s nose.

Damien licked his finger off daintly.

“There you go.”

“Thank you,” James breathed, and buried himself in his meal, careful not to let any sauce go astray this time.

“You’re welcome,” Damien said primly, and continued eating like nothing had happened.

When the check came, James reluctantly allowed Damien to pay, and they headed back to Damien’s place.

“I’ll just drop you off here, I guess,” James said. “See you tomo-”

“No!” Damien all but shouted, then cleared his throat. “No. You have to, uh, come to my garden. I want to show you something.”

James followed Damien wordlessly, and soon they stood in the center of the elaborate flower garden,

The flowers glistened, wet with recently fallen rain. It had been a damp few weeks now that they were inching into fall, and it made the garden all the more beautiful. Damien stared at him, dark eyes even darker in the dim light of dusk, and James found it hard not to stare at his lips.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” 

“What?”

“The thing. In the garden.”

“Oh,” Damien said. “That.”

They were closer now, and James was less than an inch from kissing him.

“You don’t have anything to show me, huh?” James teased, and Damien suddenly got even closer, one hand gently cupping his cheek and the other reaching down to hold his hand.

“I thought it would be romantic if we kissed here,” he said, fighting a blush, and James smiled.

“You were right.”

Then they were kissing, a tentative press of lips against lips as James leaned up to kiss Damien. It felt like an hour had passed before they broke apart, Damien’s lips pink and wet, James breathing hard.

“Would you like to come back inside?” Damien said, looking at him lustily, and James shuddered without meaning to.

“Absolutely.”

Before he knew what was happening, James was pushing Damien against a literal four-poster bed -- something he had only heard about in, like, Harry Potter books -- and Damien was gasping into his mouth.

James pulled off his shirt, and Damien seemed to marvel at the tattoos that adorned his chest, even though he had seen them before..

It seemed like it would be disastrous to try to rid Damien of his Victorian attire without ruining anything, so James didn’t bother to undo anything, especially not without permission.

Instead, he sucked hard at the man’s lower lip and watched him shudder.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Damien groaned, his voice going sweetly dark. “Fuck, fuck, James.”

James hadn’t really heard him curse much before, and he pulled back, smoothing a hand through the other man’s hair. Damien was sort of trembling, and James wasn’t sure whether it was from arousal or nerves. He wasn’t going to assume the former.

“Are you okay?” he asked seriously, looking at Damien, who glanced away.

“It’s fine,” he said stiffly.

“Are you sure?” James pressed.

“Um,” Damien said, a little embarrassed. “Can we stop for now? I don’t think I’m ready for everything just yet.”

“Of course,” James said, sliding off the bed. “Definitely.”

“I’m sorry,” Damien said.

He looked uncomfortable, sitting cross-legged on the center of his bed. He might have been crying, if you looked too closely.

James smiled at him softly, tugging his T-shirt back on.

“Don’t bother, it’s totally cool. I’m sorry for pushing it too far.”

They looked at each other, silent. James cleared his throat, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“Thank you,” Damien said after a while. “For dinner, and everything else. You’re quite the gentleman.”

“Would you care for a second date, perhaps later this week?” James said, imitating Damien’s fancy style of speaking.

Damien let out a wet laugh.

“I would love that,” he said. “Maybe we should take a break for a bit though. I need some time to think. I’m sorry if I made things a bit...awkward.”

“I promise, it’s fine. I’m gonna get some sleep, though. I’d better head back to my place.”

“Of course.”

They said their goodbyes quickly and Damien showed him out of the house. He looked as if he were about to kiss James goodnight, but then decided against it.

“Sleep well,” Damien said.

“You too,” James grinned.

He headed back to his house. It felt sort of empty. He barely slept that night, but when he did, it was of Damien, laughing at him from across the dinner table, kissing him in the garden, gazing solemnly as he walked back to his house.

When James woke up, he did a few word jumbles and made some eggs. They weren’t very good, but he wolfed them down anyway. He didn’t see Damien at all that day. He went to get coffee, walked around the park, even went to the mall, but he didn’t see the man. It felt lonely. It felt wrong. But he would give him his space, as promised.

A week or so later, while James was lounging in bed one morning, he got a DadBook message. He expected a summer barbecue invite from Joseph, or a cute video of Craig’s baby, but instead it was from Damien himself. It was long and very formal, as usual, but it came with an invitation to afternoon tea.

He did a little bit of research and stopped at the flower shop before heading over.

James lifted the knocker and let it fall.

The door creaked over, and Damien was behind it. He was dressed in a dark button-down and casual slacks, his hair pulled back. He had a pair of adorably goofy glasses that were slipping down his nose. He adjusted them.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hey,” James said, not questioning his lack of Victorian attire.

“Are those for me?” Damien asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah, here you go,” James said, shoving a bouquet into his hands and looking away shyly, as if he was a teenager again, confessing his love.

But it wasn’t really a confession. It was an apology.

“Snapdragons and hyacinths…” Damien said, his face unreadable.

“I Googled it,” James said very fast. “I read that a bouquet of snapdragons and hyacinths means that the giver is-”

“Sorry for making a mistake,” Damien said slowly.

They stood in the doorway of Damien’s almost-mansion, the house looming over James’s head, the air tepid and the grass damp with morning dew.

“It’s going to rain,” Damien said, his voice taut and careful. “You should come inside.”

“Gladly,” James said, much too brightly.

Damien went and got a vase, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside.

“Can we talk about what happened?” James said.

“Over tea?”

“Sure.”

They sat in the parlor, sipping tea, James’s with far too much sugar and milk as always.

“I suppose I’ll start. I didn’t want to stop entirely, but I have a lot of dysphoria in that...area,” Damien said slowly. “I didn’t want to go any further without explaining my needs.”

“That’s totally fine,” James said. “I wasn’t going to pressure you into anything you didn’t want.”

“I didn’t think you would. It’s just...awkward.”

“Explaining your needs shouldn’t have to be awkward. I care about you, Damien. A lot. I won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Damien looked down.

“I don’t want anything to penetrate me. Not fingers, not anything. And don’t take my binder off. Please.”

“See? That was fine,” James said. “I promise I’ll respect your boundaries, okay?”

“Then...do you want to…?” Damien blushed.

“Now?” James laughed. “Let me take you on another date first. Maybe two. And this time, I’m buying.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Damien said.

But James took him out five more times over the course of the next two weeks. And he paid every time.

“Let me pay, it’s alright, I promise,” Damien stumbled over his words, embarrassed.

“I’ve got it,” James said.

“You’re paying for art school, I’ll pay for frozen yogurt.”

James ignored him and handed the bored cashier a ten, who gave him change. He put it in the tip jar.

“Thank you,” Damien said to James begrudgingly, taking his frozen yogurt off the scale and dipping a neon colored spoon into it.

They ate in James’s car.

“I didn’t know you liked rainbow sprinkles on your frozen yogurt,” James said.

“They’re delicious.”

“They don’t taste like anything, babe, but it’s adorable that you think so.”

“It adds to the aesthetic of the-” Damien stopped. “Did you call me ‘babe?’”

“Sorry,” James said sheepishly.

“That’s what’s adorable,” Damien teased. “I suppose I’ll have to start using Victorian era pet names for you.”

“Like what?”

“They’re actually quite commonplace. Dearest, darling, angel, honey, sweetheart, treasure. Fairly normal, if you ask me.”

James flushed.

“If you call me those, I’ll have to kiss you.”

“That’s all I have to do for a kiss?” Damien said. “Come here, sweetheart.”

James leaned over towards the passenger’s seat and kissed him softly. He tasted like chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. He guessed they had a taste after all.

“James, darling,” Damien said, looking down at him with a soft smile. “Do you think tonight we could make love?”

And  _ oh _ , James had never heard anyone say it like that before, and he froze in place for a moment before responding.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes, that would be good. Yes.”

“Divine,” Damien said. “Finish your frozen yogurt and we can go back to my place.”

James had never eaten anything so fast in his life.

When they got back to the house, Damien took him by the hand and brought him to his bedroom. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” James said sincerely, and Damien nodded and started undoing his collar. 

It took a while for him to undress, but soon he was clothed in nothing but a binder and underwear. Perhaps he had been joking about the period-accurate binders, for the one he had on looked a whole lot like a black half tank binder from GC2B.

James pulled off his T-shirt and cargo shorts and grinned up at Damien.

“You’re so handsome,” he said.

Damien smiled softly.

“Can I touch you?” he breathed, and when James nodded, he ran a hand over the man’s chest, brushing the scars with his fingers.

James shivered. Though he had little sensation there, the gesture was tender and full of something that he might call love, if he was brave enough.

Damien led him to the bed. This time he climbed on top of James, kissing him senseless and running his hands over his body. His fingers lingered at his hip, toying with the edge of his boxers.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and James nodded before Damien slipped a hand beneath the fabric.

James’s cock was hard, and Damien slicked his hand with spit and rubbed it in slow circles. James inhaled sharply. 

“You’re so good,” James said. “Must have a lot of practice, huh?”

“Perhaps,” Damien said, blushing down to his neck.

“Show me?” James. “Can I see how you touch yourself?”

Damien trembled, this time with arousal, and sat back on his heels, his soft pale thighs spreading wide. He tugged at his underwear and began touching his cock. He was wet, his underwear visibly damp, and James watched him, mesmerized. His eyebrows scrunched together cutely as his expression slipped into one of pleasure.

“Oh, love, touch me,” he moaned, and James pressed three fingers over Damien’s cock and gently stroked it, moving in circles as Damien had done for him.

Damien reached down and began touching James, and they gasped, moving against each other.

It was hot; the air felt humid and sweat dripped down James’s neck, even though it was almost autumn and they were wearing hardly anything.

“I’m gonna come soon,” James said. 

“Do you want me to use my mouth?” Damien asked, and James shook his head.

“Another time. I want to focus on you. You’re still okay?”

“More than okay,” Damien said, gasping at one particular jolt of pleasure. “Perfect, honey, perfect.”

James moved his fingers faster until Damien’s thighs shook, and he nearly collapsed onto the bed, filling the air with moans. He was louder than James thought he would be.

Damien kept going until James came, a little quieter than he was.

They lay on the bed, James stroking his fingers through Damien’s hair, smiling at him with a look of pure adoration on his face.

“You’re so amazing,” James said, sort of stupidly.

Damien was often better with words than he was.

“I think you’re amazing,” Damien said, dazed.

Well, sometimes.

“Don’t fall asleep in your binder, okay?” James whispered, and Damien rolled his eyes.

“I know.”

They lay there for a while before Damien got up.

“I’m gonna shower,” he said. “It’s okay if you go to sleep.”

“Okay,” James yawned, and curled up underneath the sheets.

He woke up the next morning in Damien’s embrace. Life had never felt so sweet. 

**Author's Note:**

> i love kudos and nice comments. i'm a nervous guy so sorry if i don't answer often.


End file.
